


Shattered Truths

by StarlightHawke



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - No Nen, Angst, Assassination, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, I'll update tags as we go along but, M/M, Slow Burn, Trauma, illumi being illumi ig, is it really killua without trauma though, meaning he's an asshole, no hunters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25938370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightHawke/pseuds/StarlightHawke
Summary: In a world with no nen nor hunters, a young boy named Killua Zoldyck chose to disobey his parent's wishes and sneak into the city resting on one of Mount Kukuroo's plateaus. While he arrives looking for an escape, he instead finds something much more important - friendship. A friendship that becomes so important to him that he's willing to throw his life away for it.Until that very same friendship is ripped away and he's left devastated, all alone once more.Years later, he's sent on a mission to Yorknew City, in charge of gathering intel on one of the mysterious members of the Phantom Troupe. Little does he know the surprise of a lifetime awaits for him there.
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 22
Kudos: 80





	1. Zipline x Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first (and likely only) HxH fic. Fair warning my updates tend to be sporadic and occasionally far in between - but not Togashi level, so don't worry too much.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is Ghost by Mystery Skulls.

_7 years ago_

Living at the top of a mountain isn’t as much fun as it’s cracked up to be.

At least, that’s what Killua thinks as he flies through the trees of the forest lining the slope of Mount Kukuroo, expertly avoiding the certain death that comes with one wrong move and a rather loud _thump_ against an unsuspecting trunk. Sure, _this_ part is alright: holding onto the handles that had once been claimed by a rusty old bike as the air whooshes through his hair at a speed that causes his stomach to somersault, the high-pitched hum of the cable above him barely audible. Hands down, the zipline is his best idea so far, giving him a way to both defy his parents _and_ have fun _._

Granted, it also reminds him that he is alive and very, very mortal, but eh, less important things. The real beauty of it is that it gets him to the plateau where the closest city is located in decent time and if he sets out first thing after his morning lesson, he can get there by noon. Installing it was a bitch but so, so worth it. He thinks this every time he nears the end and today is no exception, already beginning to swing his legs in preparation for landing. 

As with everything else surrounding these escapades, this must be timed just right lest he wind up injured or dead. Deep breath. All focus on the ground in front of him, and _now!_ The handles fall from his hands as he launches himself forward, joyful laughter ringing through the area. Time slows as he plummets toward the ground, heartbeat loud in his ears, the adrenaline pumping through his veins only serving to give him a greater high. Spongy grass meets worn sole and he twists, morphing his movement into a tumble down the remaining slope. 

He comes to a stop in a meadow and he throws his arms and legs out, grinning like an idiot at the sky above him. Nothing gives him a rush quite like that, not even the assignments Illumi forces him to undertake. The thrill of the ride and subsequent jump - knowing death could be waiting on the other side if he miscalculates one minor detail. 

Sunlight beats down onto his pale skin, warming him deeply and in a way the heaters in his family’s mansion never could. Dank, cold, devoid of hope and love. 

No, that’s not true. The mansion isn’t devoid of love. There’s plenty of that, a cruel, twisted sort; it permeates the walls and spreads its sickly roots, deeper, deeper, trying to find hold in his own darkened heart. 

So why hasn’t it, yet?

He’s different, sure; that much has been made clear since the moment he was brought mewling into the world. Stark white hair dictates his future as the family head and yet, and yet. It doesn’t feel right, when he thinks about it. When he truly digs deep into the shadows of his mind and tries to understand the chaos there, he _knows_ this isn’t the path for him. 

Maybe that’s why he rebels the way he does. Always pushing his boundaries against the eldest of his brothers, Illumi, and taking his sweet time completing assignments, when given them. And now this, rigging together a quick way down the mountain to sneak into the city and mingle with commoners. Not that he’s done much mingling, per se, but he’s definitely wandered through the streets before. 

Speaking of, if he wants to hit up that one place before it sells out of his favorite pasty, he’d better get moving.

Pushing himself up, he sits cross-legged, tugging his backpack to rest in his lap. A gentle breeze blows through the meadow, grass tickling his calves as he piles a change of clothes in front of him. Unfortunately the Zoldyck family has a reputation for dressing a certain way, and he’s no exception - after all, it’s his mother who purchases his clothes. The first time he snuck into town he purposefully ruined his outfit so that he could pass undetected until he bought a few less-outlandish outfits. 

Honestly, these clothes feel better anyway. If he could, he’d wear them all the time.

He strips without a care, carefully folding the suit jacket and pants and slipping them into the bag. Instead he dons a simple white tank and blue athletic shorts, shoving as much of his unruly hair under a blue baseball cap as he can. Thankfully white hair isn’t so rare that it stands out, but given his proximity to the estate, it doesn’t hurt to take precautions. One pair of aviators later and he’s walking back to the forest edge, tucking his bag into a hollow tree stump for later.

Perfect. Now, time for that bun.

-oOo-

The door chimes as it shuts behind Killua, the friendly farewells of the couple who run the place fading. _They’re so strange,_ he thinks as he takes a bite into the fluffy, sweet bread, licking some sweet bean paste off of his lips. _So friendly to everyone. How did they even recognize me? I don’t come here that often._ At least, not as often as he’d like. He’s lucky to make it down here on a weekly basis, rarely more. Still… this _is_ the first place he always goes to. 

Maybe he’s letting his guard down a bit too much.

Ah, well. He’ll need to be more careful from here on out. At least this is the only place he’s visited more than once and it’s not like he’s alone, judging by the fact it’s almost always packed to the brim when he gets there.

Slipping between the people crowding the sidewalk, Killua takes another bite, meandering down an alley he’s unfamiliar with. An overflowing dumpster greets him, assaulting his nostrils with a stench more pungent than Mike on the day the butlers try to wash him. Crinkling his nose, he kicks a rock at it as he goes by, the noise drowned out by the city’s noises. 

Really, what does he hope to gain out of these trips? He’s been wandering different parts of the city for at least a month now with nothing to show for it other than a newfound love of these particular buns. Rebellion and the slight freedom that comes with it, sure, but in the long run? He’s running from his family, running from the responsibility he doesn’t want. Running to what, though? There’s nothing here for him. He’s an assassin, born and raised, bred to be the next head of the family. A cold-blooded, cold-hearted killer.

The fluffy crumb of the bun rips easily between his teeth as he aggressively tears into it, frustrated, and he’s reminded of when Mike rips into his meal. Bean paste leaks out slowly, dripping onto his fingers like the congealed blood of all of his past victims. A murderer, like his father, and his father’s father, and his father’s father’s father...

Bright laughter floats into the alley, enveloping Killua like a beam of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Snapping out of his thoughts, he licks his fingers and begins walking toward the sound, multiple excited voices overlapping each other. A cacophony of glee, no doubt from a group of children. 

The very people he should stay as far away from as he can.

And yet he continues forward, feet moving of their own accord as he nears the end of the alley. Across the road lies a park, not large but open enough for the neighborhood kids to gather and kick a ball around. Killua leans against the building next to him, refusing to allow himself to get any closer. Even though he’s certain no one has noticed his afternoon disappearances, the last thing he wants on his conscience is the unjustified murder of multiple innocent kids.

Illumi’s already proven himself to be capable of such, simply because Killua dared to consider returning a ball on a mission once.

Most of the kids look like they’re the age of his youngest brother, with a few even younger. The game looks easy enough, just passing the ball between team members and trying to kick it into a net on one side of the field. Despite the simplicity of it, they’re obviously having fun. Desire tugs at his heart. Closing his eyes, Killua sighs, kicking at the ground. _What is it like, being a normal kid with a normal life? Playing games at the park like it’s nothing special…_

What he wouldn’t give for that.

_Bump!_

“Hey!”

The gentle thud of something against his feet causes Killua’s eyes to jolt open. Suddenly he can’t breathe, can’t get the oxygen he needs and his heart plummets through the cement below. Terror fills him instantly, the memory of blood-stained bricks in an alley much like this flashing through his mind. On the ground before him rolls the black-and-white ball from across the street, innocuous on its own but a weapon of death in his vicinity and he should run, he should leave, but he’s stuck standing still and staring at it like it’s a viper poised to strike.

Each breath is ragged, dragging like a chainsaw across his chest and he clutches at his heart, jaw clenched. _No, not again, not this again, please, it’s not their fault, it’s mine, I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t…_

“Hey…” 

The weight of a hand on his shoulder only serves to heighten his anxiety and Killua knocks it away in a flash, jumping back several steps to lock eyes with Illumi’s madness, wishing that he had the strength to stand up to him.

Hazel irises greet him instead of dark, empty black.

Oh.

A boy about his age stands there, hand still outstretched and mouth in a wide ‘o’. _Shit, that was embarrassing._ Killua shakes himself out of it enough to give an awkward chuckle. “Oh, uh, haha. Sorry about that, didn’t see you there.”

Eyebrows knitting together, the boy cocks his head to the side slightly and squints. “Are you okay?” he asks, bending down to grab the ball. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“W-what? Scared? No, I wasn’t scared, I just… wasn’t… expecting that.” _Please, sound more stupid, idiot._ He forces a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as fake as it feels, and places a hand behind his head. “It’s okay, really.”

“Okay.” Turning around, the boy waves at the other kids across the road and breaks into a sunny grin as he holds up the ball. He takes a few steps before pausing, glancing at Killua over his shoulder. “Hey, do you wanna join up? One of our teams is short a member.” 

Killua’s heart tugs again. “Nah, I’ve gotta get going,” he replies, despising the bitter taste of each word on his tongue.

The boy shrugs. “Okay. By the way, you had something on your hand when you put it in your hair,” he says simply, still smiling as he points at his own messy pile of green hair. “See ya around!” 

_Shit._ Yanking his hand back down, Killua stares at the remnants of his bun, cheeks beginning to burn. _At least most of my hair is up._ _Still… what a waste._ Frustrated, he wipes his hand on his shorts, watching as green-hair kid runs back across the street. 

“Gon! Pass it to me, it’s my turn!” shouts another kid with long brown hair. 

_Gon, huh._ Green-hair tosses it to his friend and they take back off to the field, Killua left staring at their backs in thought. 

Perhaps somewhere in another world, he could join him on that field.

* * *

_Present_

Early morning sunlight shines through the large picture windows decorating the front of the old building in downtown Yorknew City. The sidewalk out front is crowded as the masses make their way to and from work, faces hidden behind phones more often than not, with only the occasional child stopping to gasp in delight. Noses pressed against the glass, their little eyes sparkle in excitement at each bundle of fur occupying the bright beams, unbothered by the general chaos of the morning. Tabbies, calicos, short- and long-haired - cats of many different breeds stretch out on the carpet, soaking up the warmth that only the sun can provide them with.

A line travels through the building, starting several feet inside of the door and reaching into the back where a friendly barista awaits, his kind smile and delicate looks winning over the hearts of many - women and men alike (not to mention the cats). Pawstive Meowments - Yorknew City’s famous cat cafe - boasts the city’s best coffee and friendliest cats, usually delivering upon both promises to the caffeine- and love-deprived.

“Good morning, Kurapika~!”

“Good morning, Mr. Hunter,” the barista replies, tucking some errant blond hair behind his ear. “Your usual today?”

“You got it! Here, keep the change.” 

“You’re too kind, Mr. Hunter.”

Jovial laughter fills the cafe. “Only the best for the barista who supplies my addiction, eh? See you tomorrow!”

 _So loud._ Blue eyes hidden behind sunglasses follow the happy customer as he walks from order to pickup, hands shoved in the pockets of his obnoxious lavender suit. _Is it even possible for this idiot to be quiet?_ As though in response, the man begins whistling a cheerful tune as he pulls out a maroon phone and scrolls through it. _Guess not._ Of course he’d be the one to get Mr. Sunshine himself.

It has to be Illumi’s doing. Payback for the time in Zaban City when Killua beat him to the target.

The line moves forward.

“Here you go, Mr. Hunter!” another employee hands Sunshine his latte and bagel, bowing slightly after he takes it. “Your table is free, as usual.”

With a grin and a (literal) hop in his step, Sunshine walks over to a small, circular table located in the back corner of the cafe. His cup is placed carefully on the surface, followed by the bagel as Sunshine himself drops into the overstuffed armchair, sinking down with a satisfied sigh. 

He’ll stay like that for about five minutes, give or take. Just enough time for Killua to get through the line and find a seat where the counter isn’t jutting into his view. 

The line moves forward.

When his father had initially called him into the meeting to discuss the upcoming missions, he’d been wary. It’s rare for more than one Zoldyck to be needed per assignment, and the fact that this one included four of them was definitely worth noting. Perhaps it meant the target was particularly tough, or the client was extra paranoid. Maybe even multiple targets. 

The answer he got when sitting around the fire was not what he was expecting.

The line moves forward.

“Good morning, sir,” the barista greets him warmly. _He’s wearing those mismatched earrings again. Wonder if there’s meaning behind them?_ “What can I get for you today?”

“A bottle of water and one of those buns.” He drops some money on the counter and moves on. “Thanks.”

The Phantom Troupe has a mole. Names are being leaked, slowly, and those with the biggest grudges have already reached out to the famous family of assassins in hopes of taking out as many of them as they can. But the Troupe isn’t anyone to mess with, as Killua’s father pointed out, so the initial goal is to track and gain intel. When it comes to high-ranking members of the mob, nothing is ever as it seems. 

The Phantom Troupe? Take it up about ten times. 

“Here you go.” 

Killua takes his items from a tall man, glancing at his name tag. _Leorio._ “Thanks, Reolio,” he says with a snicker, smirking at the flash of anger in the man’s eyes. 

“No problem, rat-tail,” Leorio mumbles under his breath, most likely under the impression that Killua isn’t able to hear him. Not the case, but it’s not as though the barb truly bothers him, either. Not as though it’s the first time someone pointed out his long hair.

Granted, usually it’s to compliment how soft and healthy it looks - a fact that baffles Killua, since it isn’t as though he puts any extra time or care into it, just washes and dries it before pulling it back into a low ponytail so that the curls don’t impede his vision - as opposed to calling it a ‘rat-tail,’ but eh. Not important.

Sliding into a chair near the window that allows him to watch Sunshine out of his peripheral vision, Killua lets out a chuckle when a blue-eyed tabby jumps into his lap. “Oh, hey there, Misty,” he coos, running his hand gently along the cat’s back. “Missed me, did you?” 

_Mrrp._

It’s been a week already, tailing Sunshine a.k.a Shalnark Hunter on his daily routine. It’s boringly predictable: wake up at 6 am, yoga at 6:15. Shower after, arrive at this cafe no later than 7:30. Work begins at 9 at Spider Tech, where he’s in and out of meetings all day. Off work at 5pm, dinner at 5:30 - usually at home, but he went out with friends once. Read until bed at 9. Rinse and repeat.

Asking Killua to believe this man is a major player in such a cryptid organization of the underworld is a lot. Bright green eyes full of excitement greet the world each day, his meticulously styled hair and ridiculous pastel suits making him stupidly easy to tail. Nothing seems to phase that happy-go-lucky mood of his, and so far, Killua’s seen nothing to cause any suspicion. 

Well, other than the fact that none of the cats in here will approach him. But not everyone is an animal person, so that's hardly evidence. 

The furball in his lap purrs contentedly. This is undoubtedly the biggest perk of this particular endeavor; there aren’t any animals other than Mike at the estate and Mike isn’t exactly the type to love on anyone. If Misty thinks she’s living through all of this love, she has no idea how much warmth it fills Killua up with. 

It’s been so long since he’d last felt this kind of warmth. Honestly, he hasn’t felt it since…

No. _I won’t think about that._ Stuffing a piece of roll in his mouth, Killua groans, letting his eyes wander to the busy street outside. _This is not the time or place to get lost in the past._

The past is a dangerous place for Killua. No, he’d rather stay right here, in the present, with boring Mr. Sunshine.

Because the past hurts more than the present ever could.

* * *

_5 years ago_

He waits until he’s alone again to let it all sink in. Illumi had, of course, offered to give him a ride back to their mansion but Killua would rather _die_ than be in the same car with him at this point. He’d told him as much, and all Illumi had done was shrug and turn around, walking off as if everything that had just happened was no big deal.

As though he hadn’t just shattered Killua’s entire world.

It isn’t until he’s halfway up the slope that he lets himself break down. Lets the tears flow in rivulets down his face as he wipes away snot with his sleeve. Lets himself yell and scream and throw a tantrum, shouting into a black void that has approximately zero fucks to give. 

The forest that sits between the estate and the city had once felt like a challenge, something just waiting to be mastered to shatter the glass window between his world and the outside one. Now, it just feels like an impenetrable wall.

Living at the top of a mountain isn’t as much fun as it’s cracked up to be.


	2. HidexAndxSeek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lesson on not everything is as it seems and a new identity is born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one where we spend more time in the past than the present. Sorry! That will be fixed in the next chapter:)
> 
> Song: Waving Through a Window from Dear Evan Hansen

_6 Years Ago_

The crunch of the leaves underfoot is loud, much louder than Killua would prefer while hunting, but what can he do other than lighten his steps a bit more and try to blend his noise into that of the forest? Hopping lightly onto a log, he surveys the area in front of him: trees of various ages and development, their leaves falling to the ground in a beautiful array of colors as fall tresspasses on the heels of summer. Sunlight, broken into beams that disappear and reappear as the breeze winds through, and the dust and dirt they’ve kicked up floating along like imperfections in glass. Above him, birds sing; below him, crickets chirp. In front of him, however, it is far too still and empty for his preference.

He quiets the beating of his own heart and listens, for the earth speaks if one is willing to listen to her voice. Tales of long lives and fleeting dreams, of love and destiny and betrayal. She may be old but her mind has not dulled with age, still as sharp and witty as ever. Showing her respect is the least one can do - but showering her with love and the adoration deserving of such a magnificent being will bring a connection unlike any other. A connection that gives him the ability to walk where he isn’t, the talent to hear the words of her whispers, the knowledge that she’ll support him as long as he asks. And, if he waits just long enough to feel as though he’s being absorbed into nature itself, she’ll often sing of the location of his prey. 

A rustle. A soft sigh. A footstep.

 _Aha._

Walking the forest floor is too loud, giving away his position and intent. What sorry excuse of an assassin would he be if he let that be the reason he failed this hunt? Squaring his shoulders, he crouches, hiding behind the underbrush as he edges his way toward the end of the log. A branch hangs lowly nearby. It’s one that should easily support his weight, he wagers, giving it a discerning look. A benefit to being small is how many times that is yet the case, as opposed to his brothers or dad who must be careful - lest they misjudge the strength of a branch and fall to the ground, ruining their stealth. With little more than an inch left before the end of the log he quietly launches himself into the air, wrapping deft fingers around the wood to swing himself in one smooth motion to squat on top. 

The view is better up here, but his target is still artfully hidden. That’s okay. The thrill is in the hunt, after all. 

And it’s rare for him to find someone so delightfully talented at evading him.

Killua’s eyes dart from tree to tree, mentally drawing lines and connections between them, calculating the best possible route to his destination with minimal chances of being discovered. The advantage to being trained for assassination since birth is how these things become second nature, as easy and natural to him as walking or breathing. Less than a few seconds go by before he’s creeping along, preparing himself for the hop to the next tree, then the next, and the next after that. 

Almost there. Wrapping his legs around a branch, he drops down to hang from it, arms climbing forward slowly. This will be the trickiest part: approaching the target and tagging him before being seen. Having cleverly wedged himself somewhere inside the half-hollow trunk of the tree, the target clearly knows what he’s doing when it comes to hiding. Had Killua not chosen to employ his other abilities, he might have been unable to find him. 

There’s a small hole, barely large enough for an arm to fit in half the way up the trunk. Killua’s uncertain how high the hollow part goes and makes sure to keep out of sight, but as he slides closer, he ascertains that no one is using it as a lookout. Good. That means _he_ can make use of it.

With the speed of a sloth, he slowly makes his way closer, closer, closer, until he can peep into the hole. Perfect. While he can’t see a body, he can make out a tuft of green hair. 

“Gotcha,” he calls out smugly, reaching through and tugging roughly on it. 

“Ow! Hey!” Muffled laughter erupts from the tree. “Geez, did you have to pull it so hard, Killua?” 

Killua’s hand stings slightly from where a palm smacked against it, prompting him to release the locks in his grasp. Giggles escape him as well and he withdraws his hand, shifting to wrap his knees around the branch and hang upside down from it. The tree shivers and shakes as its occupant does - well, _something_ \- to get down, and Killua laughs harder when he swears he hears the tree breathe a sigh in relief when a body tumbles out ungracefully near the bottom. 

“It’s not funny,” the young boy protests, but the grin stretching wide across his face and the sparkle in his eyes betray his actual thoughts. Managing to tamp down his mirth, Killua folds his arms across his chest and gives the newcomer a once over, snickering. 

The green jacket and shorts are _filthy,_ covered in dirt and stray pieces of wood. His hair, already wild and unbrushed, stands on end, leaves and debris clinging to it like glitter to an unwitting victim’s clothes. 

He looks absolutely ridiculous.

Killua bursts into laughter again, curling upwards toward his stomach as he points at him. “You’re gonna get in so much trouble when your aunt sees you like that!” he chortles, fully aware of the exasperation and frustration an already tired Mito is capable of emitting. 

The grin only widens. “Yeah? Probably, but that’s okay. It’s worth it if I get to spend the day hanging out with you!”

Laughter morphs into a strangled noise as Killua’s face lights on fire at the unexpected remark. “Wha- man, don’t say things like that. It’s embarrassing,” he mumbles, glancing to the side with a pout. What he means is, “ _Thank you, you’re a light in my life of darkness,”_ but not only is that so cheesy it threatens to constipate him for the foreseeable future, but the words refuse to form on his tongue.

Living as a member of the Zoldyck family means learning how to freeze out the emotions not beneficial to killing at a very young age. There’s no room for love, kindness, mercy. Warmth and compassion? Unheard of. For better or worse, Killua never truly managed to harden his heart into a solid chunk of ice like his parents and older brothers. Perhaps it’s because he’s as weak as Illumi says he is; maybe it has to do with some sort of genetic mutation that makes him separate from their inhumanity. More likely it has to do with the close relationship he developed with his sister and the desire to protect her that grew from it. Whatever the reason, his heart is less an iceberg and more an ice cube trying desperately to cool down a steaming cup of hot tea. 

And then Gon comes meandering into his life, all smiles and light and the heat that accompanies that sunshine personality of his. Killua’s drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, basking in the warmth that spreads through every corner of his being. The way Gon speaks without a barrier between his heart and mouth never ceases to shock Killua into an embarrassed silence. More deadly than poison and effective than torture, each casual affirmation of friendship makes his breath stutter, heart skip a beat, and mind grind to a screeching halt. He doesn’t deserve kind words, or even a friend - yet here Gon is, in front of him, shaking leaves out of his ridiculous hair and blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions brewing in Killua.

“Hey, how’d you get so good at hiding?” Killua blurts out, desperate to change the subject. It doesn’t help him to brood over missed opportunities to say what he’s really thinking. “I actually had to _try.”_ None of his professional marks have ever managed to elude him for as long as Gon did.

Gon pauses, blinking owlishly for a few moments before shrugging with a laugh. “Huh? Oh, I’m not that good, really. When I was still living on Whale Island, I was the only kid so I ended up playing with a lot of the animals on the island. You have to get creative when you’re trying to hide from a foxbear!”

“Huh!?” Killua’s eyes widen in disbelief. “A… a foxbear!? You played with a foxbear!?”

“Mmhmm.” As per his usual, Gon brushes off Killua’s shock as if he never noticed it to begin with. “I found a cub abandoned when I was six and talked Aunt Mito into letting me rescue him. She wasn’t very happy, but grandma said it’d be good for me so she let me. Kon was my only friend until I moved here.”

That certainly _does_ explain how Gon avoided leaving a trail despite having no formal training. Killua’s not even sure _he_ could adequately hide from a foxbear. But to have taken in a cub at such a young age and without fear? Could that be due to the hubris of youth, or simply because that is how Gon has always been? 

A rustling of leaves heralds Gon dropping to the ground to sit, cross-legged, eyes up toward the sky. “He was a really good playmate. That’s probably a little weird to say, huh?” 

“Haha, a little bit, yeah.” 

“Well, he was. I spent a lot of my free time roaming Whale Island, pretending to be an explorer like my dad.” Suddenly Gon’s leaning forward, a fiery passion in his eyes as he gazes up at Killua. “Did you know that he made his first discovery when he was 19? He graduated early and left for the Numere Wetlands. Aunt Mito said everyone thought he was crazy, going to a place like that alone at 17. They didn’t hear from him for two years and then suddenly, his name was all over the news as the first person to successfully map out the _entire_ area!”

Killua’s eyes shoot up, impressed despite himself. “The Numere Wetlands? Isn’t that place super dangerous?”

Nodding enthusiastically, Gon throws his hands into the air in excitement. “Yeah! Most people who go in never come back! But my dad did, and not only that, but he brought back a lot of new information on the weird animals that live there, too. That discovery shot him right into the scientific world. He’s been leading explorations ever since. Always successful, always productive - he’s so awesome!” Leaves crunch as he falls onto his back, hands behind his head with a dopey grin on his face. “I wanna be _just like him.”_

Killua swings himself to grab onto the branch with a hand, unwinding his legs and dropping to the ground to his own puff of leaves. _I wonder what that’s like, wanting to be like your father instead of despising the path he laid out for you._ Sitting down next to Gon, Killua picks at the tufts of grass surrounding him. “I guess befriending a foxbear was the first logical step to that, huh.”

Delighted laughter surrounds them. “Maybe! He _was_ surprised about that when he visited. Said that I had explorer blood in me, and that he’d bring me with him when I got old enough!” Gon sighs, happily, eyes drifting shut. “I haven’t seen him in four years, but I can’t wait. One day, we’ll go out there together, father and son exploring the wilderness together.”

The pain that lances through Killua’s heart at that simple statement catches him off-guard. Frowning, he searches Gon’s face, hoping to find something beyond the joy and hope written there. Surely he’s not so naive as to believe that’s how things will actually go, right? They don’t talk much about family - Killua _hates_ it when they do - but he’s learned enough about Gon’s to know that his father isn’t exactly, well… father-of-the-year material.

Not that his own is either. Actually, compared to Silva, Ging Freecs _could_ be father-of-the-year. 

Regardless he knows this man dropped his son off with his mother and young cousin when he was a toddler before disappearing into the wild unknown. This is the first time he’s heard Gon mention a visit from the man - so he’s, what, visited his child once since then? 

Killua’s the first to admit he has quite the curiosity streak. Upon finding out that Gon’s dad was a famous explorer, he spent the next day or so pulling up as much information on him as he could. The upside to being in a family of assassins is that access to usually classified information comes much, much easier, and it didn’t take long for him to find out everything the internet had to offer on this mysterious man.

The internet didn’t have many kind things to say, beyond the fact that his discoveries were always astounding and helped advance science. In fact, no one who had worked directly with Ging chose to do so again. Results or not, the man was simply a nightmare of a person.

So the fact that Gon is so… blissfully ignorant of this knowledge and truly believes this selfish asshole will come back for him is painful. It isn’t Killua’s place to correct this, but maybe he can… gently nudge Gon into thinking critically about it on his own?

A breeze rustles through the trees, causing a few stray leaves to sway lazily down. The movement catches Killua’s eye and he follows their paths, mulling over how to approach this task. Speaking in a delicate and careful nature is not his forte; even when Illumi was trying to teach him how to for the purpose of luring in targets, he wasn’t good at it. It’s not that he’s inherently cruel or unkind or incapable of caring, it’s just. Well. Why waste time with niceties when you can get directly to the point? 

He should have listened more during those lessons. Then perhaps he wouldn’t be stuck here, trying to come up with something other than, “ _Yeah, your dad’s a piece of shit and you’re an idiot if you believe that.”_

What’s that thing Gon does? When he’s trying to explain something Killua doesn’t quite grasp? Oh, right.

One leaf spirals close to him, and he reaches out to catch it. It lands lightly in his palm. “If you asked my family, they’d tell you there are four Zoldyck sons for hire. If pressed further, they’d grudgingly say there’s a fifth son.” Leaves rustle next to him and he can feel Gon’s eyes settle on his face, but he chooses to instead observe the leaf in his hand. “But that’s a lie. There aren’t five sons.”

“There aren’t?” 

It’s a pleasant green, maybe something his mother might call ‘hunter green.’ Or maybe not. “No. There’s Illumi, my oldest brother. Then Milluki, me, and my youngest brother, Kalluto. We’re all able to be hired by contract. That much is true.” A couple of small holes trail up one side of the leaf, probably from a hungry caterpillar. “But the fifth child is my sister, Alluka.” 

Despite trying to keep from looking, Killua catches the way Gon cocks his head to the side in confusion. “Your sister? Then why would they say five sons?”

 _Homophobia? Transphobia? Take your pick,_ Killua doesn’t say. “Because they can’t accept that any of us could be anything other than the perfect Zoldyck child. And everything about Alluka makes them angry, so they prefer to pretend she doesn’t exist or is something she’s not. Pretty terrible, right?”

Gon agrees readily, scooting closer and placing a hand softly on Killua’s knee. Jolting in surprise, Killua swallows the lump that stupidly appeared in his throat. He’s being too emotional if Gon can tell talking about this bothers him. 

“Basically, uh, what I’m trying to say is… sometimes you can’t take what people say at face value, yeah? Not everything is always as it seems, you can’t judge a book by its cover, blah blah. You get what I’m saying.” Curling his hand into a fist, Killua can feel the moment the leaf snaps, what’s left of its lifeforce fading away into the nether. 

“Duh. Of _course_ I know that, silly!” 

Killua’s head snaps up, looking at Gon’s amused expression. Of all the reactions he’d expected, _that_ certainly wasn’t one. “You - huh?”

The smile that appears on Gon’s face is sunny and bright. “Well, you’re an assassin, right? When we met you told me nothing good could come from a friendship with you and that you’re only capable of death and destruction. But none of that was true, was it?”

“I-I…” It feels like Killua’s face bursts into flames. “B-but, um…”

The hand on Killua’s knee squeezes gently. “You’ve been a great friend and you’ve taught me a lot! Plus you’re a lot of fun to be with and you’re really nice, even if you don’t think so.”

“Argh!” Killua shoves Gon away and covers his face with his hands. Not only is his face burning, but his chest is too; filled with such a fierce warmth he wonders if he won’t turn to ash from the inside. “That’s not true, geez, cut it out, you weirdo.”

“But it _is_ true, Killua. Every word of it.” 

It’s too much. Too much love suddenly showered on a boy never spared even a scrap before. Grumbling, he grabs a handful of leaves and shoves them in Gon’s face before jumping to his feet. “Whatever. Race you to the river!”

He’s not ready to try to process this right now. That’s a problem for future-Killua.

* * *

_Present Day_

“Are we even sure the names are correct?” Milluki’s reedy voice is no less annoying over video, every word he speaks grating on Killua’s deepest nerves. “It’s been a month and none of us have anything to show for it.” 

“You’re assuming things, Mill,” Illumi cuts in, leaning forward to squint into the camera with his unnaturally empty eyes. “Some of us are competent enough to extract information from even the most unlikely scenarios.”

“Oh, go off, Illumi. Since when are a few off-shore bank accounts and a connection to a black-market broker useful information?”

“It’s better than what you found: nothing.”

The squawk and subsequent enraged stuttering would normally be a source of amusement to Killua - who typically enjoys baiting the second oldest Zoldyck brother until he’s like this - but not today. Today it only furthers his exasperation, prompting a long-suffering sigh and a roll of his eyes. Not that his days have been full of excitement lately, but he’d rather be doing _anything_ else other than sitting on this god-forsaken Doom call with his family. It’s going about as well as one would expect: arguing and taunting among the siblings, with father a mixture of amused and irritated and grandfather eating popcorn. 

If Killua wanted this kind of interaction, he’d pop in more often for holidays.

“That’s enough, boys,” father’s voice booms out, silencing Milluki instantly. “Mill, we are only able to go off the information provided to us. They wouldn’t be the Phantom Troupe if their movements were easy to track, would they?” 

“No, father.” Shoving a handful of chips into his mouth, Milluki chews aggressively but says nothing else.

“It may be time for us to try more aggressive techniques. Infiltrate their networks. Find a place in their lives, and observe from a closer vantage point. This could be one of our longest missions yet - but if we succeed, the notoriety and fortune we’ll gain from this will make certain no one ever questions the skill of the Zoldyck family.” 

“All it takes is uncovering _one_ connection to any of the heinous crimes they’ve committed,” grandfather adds with a nod. “One connection will surely be the loose thread that unravels the entire web they’ve sewn.”

“Exactly. I know we rarely utilize our contacts and skills on the spy side of our business, but now is the time. You each have 24 hours to come up with your new identity. Get all the information to Milluki by then, and once he has your life built for you, he’ll contact you. No contact between any of us until the next check-in, which will be on April 4th at exactly 9pm. I expect each of you to have valuable information by then.” 

Killua’s screen blinks twice, then lands on a message stating the host ended the session. “Goodbye, then,” he grumbles under his breath, shutting the silver lid to his laptop. “No pressure, Killua, you only have to find out what Sunshine is hiding behind that nauseating personality and perfect life of his in,” he checks his phone, “oh, roughly 60 days. No big deal. Nothing at all.” 

Spying has never been his forte. Spying requires finesse, a delicate way with words and behaviors that he never could - no, never cared to - master. Not that he particularly likes being an assassin, but at least it's straightforward: find the target, tail the target, kill the target. Doesn’t require any talking unless he chooses to. But infiltration? A new identity? This is _exactly_ the type of shit he’s not suited for.

Nonetheless, he spends the rest of the day thinking up and disregarding names until finally settling on one and his best chance at entry into Shalnark’s life, falling into a fitful sleep once he sends off the information to his brother.

oOo

Located in downtown Hattanman, Hill Luxury Apartments boasts spacious, modern apartments for Yorknew’s high class business people. A thriving riverfront neighborhood with over 100,000 square feet of sports, leisure, and lifestyle amenities, sure to make anyone feel at home. Apartment #99 certainly has an elegant air about it, pre-furnished by someone who clearly has a flair for interior design in soft blues and silvers, accented with black. The island kitchen does appeal to the part of Killua that enjoys cooking - a menial task he learned solely to spite his parents, not that they cared - and the layout is sensible and functional. All-in-all, better than the hotel rooms he’d been bouncing between the last month. 

Too bad the only thing that really interests him is the 30-foot rock climbing wall. Well, that and maybe the indoor half-pipe skate park, though he’s a bit rusty on the board. Maybe that’s something he’ll pick up in his ‘spare time.’ It’ll make him look like he has more depth, and it won’t even be fake. Score.

He stands in the ‘spacious’ living room, eyes bouncing from couch to the tv to the view over the busy downtown, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. It isn’t _exactly_ like home, not really; for the next two months he’s free to personalize it in any way he sees fit, without interference from mother. The mansion is also vastly superior in size, despite this being a ‘luxury’ apartment. Still, it’s big enough for the private instructor to teach him yoga… he thinks.

Not that he’s ever _tried_ yoga before. But it’s the easiest way to slip into Sunshine’s life - by first taking over the class he attends every morning but Sunday, then initiating outside contact. It should be easy, especially if Killua happens to end up at the same coffee shop as Shalnark, by some strange coincidence. 

Still, yoga. When he mentioned his plan to father, he’d been pleased and assured Killua that it wouldn’t take him long to pick up the art. Something about it sharing some basics with the training they’d undertaken as children. The timeline he’d set for himself is to be proficient enough to teach in two weeks - when the current instructor will find herself mysteriously under the weather. This does, unfortunately, bind him a little more than he’d like, as he’ll also need to take over the rest of her classes. But that’s to be expected when building a new identity. If he’d chosen some other type of job, he’d still have other hours when he’d have to work. 

Honestly, he’d considered the coffee shop first, knowing Sunshine cares to know every employee’s name. Being a barista would likely be a fairly easy job, not to mention he could probably finally get the answer to his question about why the blond one always wears mismatched earrings. In the end, though, befriending Shalnark outside of the cafe would be much harder than going his current route. Yoga instructors who work at Studio Meow make salaries envied by many - placing them squarely in the upper echelons of society. 

He’s also curious to learn what it’s like to do yoga with cats.

_Bang bang bang!_

The door rattles under the weight of the heavy pounding, and Killua sighs, hanging his head. _Could they at least send someone who knows how to blend in?_ Another set of knocks loudly echo through the room. “Coming,” he calls. Time to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been blessed with good friends who feed into my energy by making art of my snippets!   
> The artist is [Jack](https://twitter.com/_jackolin) \- Thank you for blessing my life with this!


	3. WhatxDidxYouxSay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua meets Gon again. And again. And again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: there is a flashback to where Illumi does some bad assassin things. If violence isn't your thing, skip the italicized parts. 
> 
> Also, I lied. We're living in the past again laksdjflkds
> 
> Song for this chapter: The Call by Regina Spektor

_7 years ago_

It becomes something of a bad habit. 

Deep down, Killua knows better. Routines are the reason why assassinations go smoothly. Well, routines and arrogance - and right now, he has both in spades.

The longer his expeditions to Kukuroo City go undiscovered, the more he relaxes into them, feeling a distinct smugness in his ability to hide such a rebellious act. Truthfully it’s only due to the inane amount of freedom Zoldyck children are afforded as long as they continue to comply with their missions and do well in their lessons, but that just makes it easier for him, right? Besides, the only person who will be punished right now is him; he’s kept his distance from others, save the cafe.

The cafe and the park. And the park should be fine as long as he doesn’t interact with anyone there. He keeps to the shadows of the alleyway, dressed in dark colors and the hood of his newly acquired sweatshirt. Wearing it definitely garnered him some strange looks - it’s spring out, after all, and too warm for such things - but he doesn’t care. Most of his days are spent in this alleyway anyway, so what does it matter? 

He tried to resist, he really did. That chance encounter with the green-haired boy - _Gon,_ he reminds himself - left him shaken for days. He’d thought he’d moved past the traumatic memory of years ago, when Illumi had made a point to show just how much he belonged to the underbelly of the world. Yet the way his mind had tortured him, forcing him to relive it over and over again, proved otherwise.

> _The late afternoon sun bears down on the sidewalk, uncomfortably hot and stifling with humidity. Most people are smart, choosing to stay indoors in the air conditioning, but Killua doesn’t have that luxury. Leaning against the wall of the diner, he works on the tricks he’s been trying to master on the yo-yo, keeping an eye on the idling car in front of him. The mark would come out any time now, no doubt surrounded by bodyguards. That wasn’t a problem, he’d dispatch them easily enough. Even at ten he was a force to be reckoned with._
> 
> _Then again, what else could be expected of the prodigal Zoldyck son?_
> 
> _His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he glances at his watch to see if it’s worth bothering with._
> 
> _Iloony_ _💀_ ****
> 
> _Are you ready? [17:46]_
> 
> _Of course Illumi would check up on him. Where’s he hiding at, he wonders? Rolling his eyes, he glances at the reflection on the door’s window. No movement from inside the diner, so he pulls it out._
> 
> _Iloony_ _💀_ ****
> 
> _[17:48] Duh._
> 
> _[17:48] Why are you watching me?_
> 
> _I have to make sure you do your job properly. [17:49]_
> 
> _[17:50] You know I can_
> 
> _[17:51] Where are you?_
> 
> _Don’t worry about me, dear brother. Just the target. [17:52]_
> 
> _So annoying. Killua groans, shoving the phone out of sight and returning to his yo-yoing, albeit a bit more aggressively than before. He’s been doing jobs for years now and hasn’t messed one up. What does he need to do to prove that Illumi doesn’t need to follow him everywhere?_
> 
> _The bell on the door next to him chimes. There he is, the up-and-coming politician who has stirred the pot a bit too much for some people’s taste. Flanked by two guards he exits the diner with a haughty air, waving off someone calling out to him. Killua waits, watching from behind sunglasses and continuing his tricks without so much as a stutter. There’s an art to this, to catching everyone in the vicinity entirely off-guard and wrecking them before there’s a chance to react._
> 
> _The first guard leans over to grab the handle to the car door, and that’s when the yo-yo goes flying through the air, stringless, hitting the window with a hollow thud. Smoke begins to pour out as it falls to the ground and the guard shoves the mark behind him, no doubt anticipating an explosion. Killua takes his chance, darting forward at a speed that would later be called ‘inhuman’ when described by spectators, sliding between the man’s legs with a quick slash to each thigh. Twin blades laced with poison from the Claymore Mushroom go from slicing their main prey to planted in the achilles tendon of each guard, leaving the sky full of cries of pain while he darts, unfollowed, into a nearby alley. There’s no need to wait around to make certain there are no survivors; while the spores of the mushroom are dangerous, the secretions are downright deadly. Near immediate immobilization once in contact with blood, spreading through arteries and veins alike to begin disintegration from the inside. The only way to survive is to amputate the affected area before it spreads - and even then, it’s unlikely, because the rate of replication is straight out of an apocalyptic horror movie._
> 
> _It’s really quite horrible to witness. Probably more so to experience. If the mark is lucky, he’ll die from blood loss out of the femoral artery before the poison takes root._
> 
> _Killua runs, and runs, and runs some more. Weaving through the backstreets, climbing over walls, and dodging around corners. Part of him feels like he’s floating on air, the post-kill surge of adrenaline pumping through his body. Right now he’s invincible, untouchable; a true Zoldyck son, through and through._
> 
> _When the sirens and shouts are no longer able to be heard, he slows. Hands shoved in the pocket of his dirtied jacket, he lets his hood fall and blinks up at the sun lazily drifting toward the horizon. There. Another job done without an issue. Now he should be able to talk his way out of another for at least a month or two. The money he’ll get will be enough to stock up on chocorobos, and he’ll share them with Alluka, pretending they have a different life._
> 
> _A shout echoes between the buildings, and he flicks his eyes over to see a few young boys run toward him, chasing after a ball. It bounces down a few steps, rolling to a stop just beyond him._
> 
> _“Hey!” one calls, raising an arm with a cheerful smile. “Mind passing that back?”_
> 
> _“Sure,” he replies, jogging over to it and grabbing it. As he turns back to toss it to them it’s plucked from his hands and he finds himself face-to-face with an unimpressed Illumi._
> 
> _The temperature plummets from uncomfortably warm to freezing cold in an instant._
> 
> _“What are you doing?” the older boy asks, tilting his head to the side and surveying him with empty eyes._
> 
> _“I, I, I…” Killua stutters, finding himself wholly unable to make his brain function long enough to come up with a response. Hands still out as though holding the ball, he shrugs, dropping them next to his sides._
> 
> _Illumi tuts, shaking his head, long black hair swaying hypnotically. “I thought I taught you better. You’re a product of the night. Your only purpose is to bring about the death of others.” He leans forward, mouth next to Killua’s ear as he whispers, “Remember, there is no place in your life for anything like friends.”_
> 
> _In that moment, Killua’s heart stops, frozen, eyes wide as he watches Illumi pivot and dash over to the small group with all the grace and beauty of a dancer. The ball, an innocuous thing on its own, is suddenly as deadly as the knives that had been grasped between Killua’s fingers only moments prior. A scream builds up inside his chest as the black-and-white material becomes stained with red, his lungs devoid of air when the dirt on the ground becomes a dark, thick mud._
> 
> _He wants to stop him, but. He can’t move. His legs won’t work, his voice won’t work. Nothing works and he’s forced to watch in slow-motion as Illumi snuffs out the light of someone Killua dared to acknowledge._
> 
> _“Next time, I’ll make you do it,” Illumi murmurs, dropping the ball next to Killua and walking past. “Now. Let’s go home.”_

There’s a reason why Killua keeps to the shadows nowadays.

He’s lost track of how many times he’s been here, in this spot, watching the kids play across the street. It doesn’t matter, not really. What matters is the joy he gets to experience by living vicariously through them; their laughter, their shouts, even their anger and arguments. It’s all so different from him and so wonderfully pleasing to watch. Of course he’d like to join them, but he can only be so selfish. No, this is enough. 

Hunkering down in a spot where he’s both hidden and has a good view, Killua munches on a bun, setting a bag of them down next to him. It’s gotten to the point where he’s considered a ‘regular’ at the cafe, and the little old lady who bakes them has begun making more and shoving them at him for no extra cost. Something about putting meat on his bones? Whatever, they’re good and now he can enjoy steadily eating them while watching the kids play. Yes, it’s become something dangerously akin to a routine but he’s fairly certain it’s okay. There’s no way Illumi would murder _that_ many children in such a public place, right?

No, no way.

Hopefully.

Most of the time the shouts are jumbled and hard to understand, but he’s beginning to recognize some names and who they belong to. There’s Zushi, a kid that looks about his age who seems really attached to the green-haired Gon; Pokkle and Ponzu, who he can’t tell if are siblings or just really close friends; Retz, who seems to be something of a tomgirl; and Ban, probably the oldest of the group. 

Killua frowns, squinting at the field in confusion. They’re usually all there around this time, with maybe a few stragglers coming in later. Zushi is already among the numbers, laughing and chatting with a few girls Killua doesn’t recognize. But where’s Gon? He’s never seen Zushi without Gon. The other way around, yes. But never like this.

“How long are you gonna watch from the shadows? You can come join us, you know.”

It takes all of Killua’s considerable talents not to screech and climb up the wall in surprise, whipping his head around to find the missing boy standing behind him. A ball rests between his arm and hip as he surveys Killua with a curious expression. “Are you shy or something? There’s no reason to be scared. We’re all friendly.”

“No, I’m not _scared,”_ Killua snaps, jumping to his feet. “What a stupid thing to say.”

Gon blinks at him, cocking his head to the side in confusion. “Okay. Just thought I’d see if you wanted to play, since you’re always here.”

“What- I, no, I’m not _always_ here, and I’m certainly not here to watch _you_ or your friends play. How dumb are you, to think that? Hah. Whatever. I’m leaving.” Killua pushes past him, grumbling under his breath. Yeah, he really had gotten too careless, hadn’t he? Thinking he’d been hidden from everyone, and somehow this, this _idiot_ figured him out…

“Okay, bye, then! If you change your mind, you know where to find us!” 

“Shut up!” Bursting into a run, Killua winds his way through the city and back to the forest as fast as he can. He needs to get away, as far away as he can, before the invitation does more than place an ember of warmth in his chest.

If he sticks around too long, he’ll end up doing something stupid like saying yes.

oOo

The next time he goes to Kukuroo City, he doesn’t visit the park. 

oOo

The weather has definitely been better. A more sane person wouldn’t have chosen to zipline down the mountain in torrential rain - given that it is A) incredibly uncomfortable and B) immensely more dangerous - but then again, a more sane person probably wouldn’t have installed this zipline to begin with.

But it’s been a while since his last bun and after the week he had, he could really use the pick-me-up. 

Which makes it all the worse when he finds himself standing in front of the cafe, reading a sign that says “CLOSED - will reopen on 7/01”. 

“But that’s two weeks from now,” he sighs, shoulders slumping in disappointment. _And I’d promised to get extra for Alluka this time, too._ He could walk around, see what other options there are for places to get pastries from. Yeah, he’ll do that. Maybe he can get a hot chocolate, too, since he’s soaked to the bone and frustrated.

“Hey!”

That voice. _No way…_ Killua turns to look down the sidewalk, eyebrows raising when he sees none other than _Gon_ approaching him, umbrella in hand. _What are the odds of running into him here? Seriously?_

The universe must be playing some sick joke on him.

Water splashes loudly under green rain boots as Gon runs up to him, that ridiculously big grin stretched across his face. Killua’s beginning to think it’s a permanent expression on him. “It’s you! Haha, I had no idea Mrs. Nana was talking about _you!”_

“Mrs. Nana?” Killua asks, brows drawn together. “Who’s that?”

Gon stops beside him, stepping close enough to share the umbrella. “You know, Mrs. Nana.” When Killua doesn’t react, he jerks his head toward the cafe’s sign. 

Flicking his eyes upward, Killua groans in embarrassment. “Oh.” The cafe, the very one he’s been visiting since the beginning of his escapades - _Nana’s Coffee Co._ The name had never seemed important before, since it’s not like he’d be telling anyone about it. Yet here, in this moment, he so very wishes he’d bothered to pay attention to it.

“It’s okay, I forget names sometimes too!” The sunny grin is back, even more blinding this close. “Anyway, she told me that a young boy with white hair visits every Sunday, and she wanted to make sure that you still got your buns. So she gave them to me and asked me to keep an eye out for you!”

“Uh,” Killua replies intelligently. None of this makes sense. Mrs. Nana cared enough to try to get him buns even when she’s not here? And she asked Gon? 

“Yep. She froze them, so all you have to do is throw them in the microwave and poof!” Gon gestures wildly with his free hand. “They’re as good as fresh! Well, I don’t know, but that’s what she said. Anyway, come on!” Without a second of hesitation, he reaches for Killua’s hand.

The contact may as well have burned him with how fast Killua yanks his hand away, eyes wide with a sneer painted on his features. “What are you doing?” he growls, inching away from Gon suspiciously. 

“Hey, you’re gonna get more wet,” Gon protests, stepping closer. “I’m taking you back to my place so you can get the buns she left you. I… kinda forgot to bring them with me.” Lips downturned, a guilty expression crosses Gon’s face for a split second before being replaced with a grin once more. “But that’s okay! This way you can grab them and take them straight home to make them, right? And they won’t be half-melted and weirdly soggy from the rain.”

Killua stares. Honestly, that’s all he can do right now, brain halfway through a hard restart brought on by too much brightness shining suddenly into his usually dark world. He blinks once, twice. Swallows, fidgets with his fingers. It… shouldn’t be a big deal to just grab the buns and run, right? He doesn’t have to stick around, doesn’t have to risk anyone getting hurt because of him. He’ll just take the buns… and run.

“Okay,” he finally says, slowly, uncertainly. “I guess I can do that.”

“Awesome!” This time Gon moves a little slower, reaching out and grasping Killua’s sleeve. “Come on, this way.” 

Without waiting for a response Gon begins walking, tugging Killua along behind him. Killua lets himself be led, quietly thankful to be out of the rain. As they walk his eyes slide to the messy head of hair in front of him and he chews on the inside of his lip in thought. Even now Gon seems to be bouncing on his toes as he hums under his breath, a bright ray of sunshine piercing the stormy grey surrounding them. How can one person have so much positivity and energy no matter the day? The amount of times Killua has watched him from afar with the other children, winning, losing, even just spectating - he’s always smiling. 

And the smile in itself is genuine. There’s never an ounce of anything other than pure, unadulterated excitement and joy. If he’s honest with himself, Gon is the only person Killua’s ever seen smile like that. The smiles in his life are all sharp enough to cut, razor-thin and poisoned around the edges. Behind them he finds sarcasm, cold amusement, and warnings. Those smiles belong to the dark. 

Gon’s smile? It’s light incarnate. 

oOo

The house isn’t anything special. Located on the outskirts of the city and surrounded by rundown buildings, it’s definitely seen better days. Despite the age and lack of past upkeep it’s oddly welcoming, with a vegetable garden out front and an old swing on the porch. The sidewalk faded into dirt a few blocks back, and Killua’s relieved to find someone placed stepping stones along the path to the house. Honestly, the sneakers he’s wearing weren’t meant to trek through puddles or the mud, the moisture seeping through to give him the gift of disgustingly wet socks. 

“We’re here!” Gon crows with a laugh, launching into a run and dragging Killua along with him. The distance between the door and the road is small enough that soon enough they’re skidding through the entry onto the warped, wooden floor, safe from the rain. Warmth surrounds Killua, a sharp contrast against the cold fabric against his skin, sending shivers cascading along his body. Keenly aware of how dirty his shoes are he chooses to stay put, arm dropping to his side when Gon finally releases his grip.

“Aunt Mito! I’m back!” Tossing the umbrella on the floor - still open, Killua notes - Gon shucks off his boots before running into the adjoining room and disappearing around the corner. “I forgot to grab the buns.”

 _Creak._ Stairs protest as feet hurry down them. “Hurry up and grab them, then. You don’t want to miss him!” 

“Don’t worry, I already found him! I brought him back with me so I could get them to him.”

“What? You brought him here?”

Killua shoves his hands into his pockets, feeling distinctly awkward. This is the first time he’s been in a house besides his own. Not even fully inside and the amount of differences between there and here is astounding. That’s ignoring the size and overall state of the place, of course. The ambiance, the decorations, even the _smell_ is so far from what he knows - so, so… 

He can’t even put words to it.

“Oh, you poor thing, you must be freezing.” A small woman appears in front of him, hair pulled into a low ponytail as she regards him with kind brown eyes. “You’re soaked to the bone. Here, come inside and warm up a little, okay?”

He shouldn’t. Nope, Killua really shouldn’t. He should grab the buns and leave, just as he planned. Shaking his head, he opens his mouth to decline the invite.

“I’ll even whip up some hot chocolate for you. Would you like that?”

Killua’s mouth snaps shut. _Hot chocolate…_ “Um. Yeah, sure, okay. Thanks.”

The woman smiles brightly, and suddenly Killua knows where Gon gets it from. “It’s no problem. Take off your shoes and make yourself comfortable, alright?” She gestures at the couch in the living room. “Don’t worry about getting anything wet. It’s not a big deal. Gon puts this place through much worse.” 

And then she’s gone, disappearing around the corner and calling out to Gon to come help her. For a few moments Killua stares at the empty space where she stood, mind slowly turning over the interaction. Another nice person, welcoming him without any inhibitions. Is this normal outside of his family? Is this what his life could have been like, had he been born anything other than a Zoldyck?

It’s not worth the time spent dwelling on it. Exhaling hard, he kicks off his shoes near the door, tossing his socks on top of them after some consideration. The floor beneath him is slightly uneven from where it’s warped and sunk but it’s significantly less chilly than anywhere he dares step bare feet on in the manor. Crossing the threshold into what he thinks might be their living room, he trods slowly toward the threadbare couch, eyes roaming over the different objects and pictures on the walls. Several frames are filled with images of Gon at various ages, some with the woman and others including an elderly lady. A few newspaper clippings featuring a bored-looking man. A… fishing pole? Yeah, that’s a fishing pole, hanging on the wall as though it was some impressive art.

The television that sits on a stand against the far wall is humble, to say the least. So is the small collection of DVDs in the bookcase next to it. And there doesn’t appear to be a gaming system of any kind that he can spot, either. 

As if the park wasn’t enough evidence that Gon lived a very different life from Killua, this house only solidifies the fact. 

“Hey!” Gon slides into the room at full speed as though capable of knowing that Killua was thinking of him, two large mugs in his hands. “Here, Aunt Mito made us hot chocolate and she makes the _best ever_!” 

A beat passes before Killua accepts one, the symbol of YorkNew University fading on the chipped ceramic. “Thanks,” he mumbles, watching as Gon plops onto the couch ungracefully and marveling at the fact none of the liquid sloshes over the side as he does. Something cold tickles his nose as he takes a sip and he looks down in surprise, wiping off the whipped cream stuck to the tip with a finger. 

Huh. That’s new. It had never occurred to him to try putting some in his hot chocolate before.

A noisy slurp from Gon catches his attention. Drink already half gone, he’s leaned back on the couch with his eyes closed and a content grin on his face. Always, always smiling. 

Killua sits down, making sure to place a full cushion’s worth of space between them. 

“Hey,” Gon says, turning his head to aim that smile at Killua. “What’s your name? You still haven’t told me.”

“Still not gonna,” Killua retorts, carefully keeping his eyes trained in front of him.

“Huh!? That’s not nice. You know mine, _and_ I’m giving you those buns from Mrs. Nana!”

Killua shrugs. “Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for any of that.” Out of the corner of his eye he can see Gon shift his position to look at him better, sizing him up.

“Well then I guess I’ll just keep them for myself,” he finally says, crossing his arms over his chest with a ‘hmph’. 

“You wouldn’t!” Betrayal crosses Killua’s face and he whips around to meet Gon’s gaze, frowning. 

“I think I will. Unless, of course,” Gon pauses, smirking, “you tell me your name.”

A pregnant pause. Does he dare? Killua sips on his drink, mind racing through alternatives. Really, he shouldn’t, shouldn’t give his name or any features that could potentially link him to his family. But he really wants those buns, and the idea of having to wait until the shop opens again is not appealing. And Gon doesn’t seem like the type to care enough to learn who Killua really is and no, he’s not actually considering this, is he? 

Arg. He did promise to bring some buns back to Alluka and the idea of disappointing her…

“Killua,” he finally answers. “My name is Killua.”

Then that sunny grin is back, outshining everything else in the room. “Nice to meet you, Killua!”

oOo

_Present_

People mill about the room as they put away their mats, chatting with each other and enjoying the post-exercise endorphin rush. Much to his surprise, Killua finds himself enjoying the practice of yoga, and teaching the classes is actually very easy. No stress, no preparations that involved planning how to kill or poison someone, and no real mess. Just leading poses, correcting people if they needed it, and focusing on something other than the tangle of thoughts in his mind.

“Hey Kon!” 

_Oh, great._ This is one of the aspects of the job he _doesn’t_ particularly care for. Plastering a smile on his face, he turns to greet the three young women hovering behind him. “Hey ladies,” he says smoothly, bowing his head. “Namaste.”

They titter obnoxiously, eyes freely roaming his body. Ever since he took over for the previous instructor, these three have been coming more and more regularly, to the point where they’re in nearly every class of his. Aoi, with her green eyes and mermaid hair, tall and lovely; Yuma, the epitome of cute with a blonde bob and big, honey eyes; and Ren, dark brown eyes full of mystery and silky black hair like midnight. There’s no denying they’re beautiful - he’d have to be blind not to see that. But they’re also spoiled rich girls, with vapid personalities who only talk to him because they think he’s attractive. 

Plenty of other people - men and women - have approached him since he began, flirtatious and not at all subtle with their invitations. Apparently yoga instructor chic is hot, especially when the instructor is tall and fit with long, curly hair tied back and bright blue eyes framed by simple black glasses. The constant attention is annoying, to say the least, but he’ll take all of that over the continued attempts of these girls. They approach him after every session, giggling and swooning, to invite him to coffee or tea or on a walk. No amount of polite refusals seem to chip away at their resolve to persuade him to join them. 

“Class was sooooo good this morning, Kon!” Clapping her hands together, Aoi leans toward him, twirling her blue-green locks around a finger. “I feel _so_ energized and ready to start my day!”

“Glad to hear it,” he responds cooly, eyes flicking over to where Sunshine is zipping up his bag. Today’s the day he wants to have his totally coincidental, not at all orchestrated meet up with him at the cafe. It’s been a few weeks since taking over the position now and he needs to get moving with the plan if he doesn’t want to run out of time. 

A snap of the fingers brings his gaze to where Ren watches him, eyebrows raised. “It’s rude not to look at the people talking to you.” 

Irritation flares in him, but he quickly stuffs it down and offers an apologetic smile. “Yes, but it’s _also_ rude of me to ignore those who are leaving.” He raises a hand in acknowledgment as a few people wave at him before stepping out the door. One thing he certainly didn’t expect was how friendly everyone would be to him here. Overly-friendly in certain cases. The smile drops and he cocks his head to the side, feigning curiosity. “Did you need something from me?”

“It’s Yuma’s birthday today.” Ren folds her arms over her chest, jerking her head toward her friend, who lights up when his eyes land on her. 

“Oh, well, happy birthday, Yuma.” He didn’t think it was possible, but Yuma brightens even further at the statement, her grin wide and radiant. 

“Uh huh, yeah.” Before he can say anything further, Ren’s reaching out to grasp his bicep and it takes all of his self-control not to rip his arm away from her. Long, immaculate fingernails painted a golden pink poke into his skin, not hard enough to hurt but definitely insistent, his muscle twitching involuntarily at the invasion. It’s uncomfortable, even more so when she steps closer, leaving barely any space between them as she gazes into his eyes. “She wants nothing more than for us to all get some breakfast together, and it would be _so sweet of you to make that happen.”_

As though the entire situation wasn’t already awful enough, the way her voice dips in a way Killua could almost read as threatening causes him to bristle. Logically, he knows this is just one of the tactics used to ensure she always gets her way - but the assassin in him has been squarely placed on high alert. Old habits die hard, if ever, after all. And while unlikely, it _is_ possible action is being taken against him before he’s given a chance to play his hand.

 _But what’s the use of all these assassination skills if I can’t use any of them to get out of this?_ Killua wants nothing more than to say, “Can’t you idiots take a hint? I’ll never go out with any of you!” but no, no, control, learn to be nice, act professional or whatever stupid shit goes with infiltration. He sighs and grabs her hand, gently prying her off of him and shaking his head. “Sorry, I have an important business meeting this morning.”

The look that flashes across Ren’s pretty face is deadly but gone as quick as it comes, smoothed back out into the seductive smile she likes to wear. “Business meeting? But you’re a _yoga instructor_.”

“Yeah. One who has more important things to tend to than the whims of you three.” Oops. Maybe that was a bit more aggressive than he meant, judging by the way the girls recoil as though physically struck. Ah, well, his patience is wearing thin enough to become a danger of its own. “I trust you are able to see yourselves out. I can’t afford to be late.” With a dismissive gesture he turns around and walks away. There’s nowhere for him to go until they leave but they don’t need to know that - and, judging by the offended puff of air from behind him, they got the message. Finally. 

Good. Now he just needs to lock up and ride out.

oOo

The line at the cafe is surprisingly short, all things considered. It’s been a hot second since Killua has stepped foot inside, not wanting to accidentally jeopardize his new identity. Alas, that meant he had to survive without their delicious buns for breakfast, but thankfully, that was not the case with the coffee. Living in a world obsessed with convenience meant there were plenty of other ways for him to adequately inject caffeine into his bloodstream, and as long as the medium was sweet, what did he care for specificities? 

Regardless, he’s still pleased to be able to order the white chocolate mocha that he’d become accustomed to sipping in his chair by the window. He’d never really considered himself as one to enjoy routine, but, well, he had enjoyed it. A certain comfort lingered in the air here, surely cultivated quite meticulously by the employees (and feline assistants) but nonetheless powerful. It made him feel… safe, maybe? No, that’s not quite the right word, but ugh, it really doesn’t matter how he describes it as long as he can _feel_ it. Being here, sipping a hot, sweet drink and munching on a delicious pastry all while having a purrball on his lap made him happy. 

And happiness wasn’t something he ever expected to experience again.

The whirr of a coffee grinder spreads through the room, familiar, and he can feel himself relaxing out of the straight-board posture he’d had ever since dealing with those wretches this morning. Slowly his shoulders sink, no longer attached to his ears and he rolls them, stretching his neck side to side with a soft exhale. God, he shouldn’t let them get to him so much but he can’t _stand_ people like that.

Err, well. Killua can’t stand most people in general, but that. That’s not the point.

As he steps closer, he notices the barista looks a little frazzled - which is saying something, since in all the times Killua ordered from him he never looked anything less than 100% put-together and calm. One earring is tangled in his hair but he doesn’t seem to notice, casting exasperated glances over his shoulder between customers. _What is he looking at?_ Killua wonders, following one glance to find two other workers hunched over one of the fancy-looking machines. _Ah, one must be new…_ Usually there are three people working at this time in the morning - Kurapika, Leorio, and Melody (who has, on more than one occasion, softly chided him for purposefully getting Leorio’s name wrong) - but Melody is conspicuously absent. Instead of her small frame there is a taller, broader one. 

Whatever. Doesn’t concern him who’s working, as long as the drink is right.

...which may be a push, if the tired way Kurapika takes his order and then asks him to “please take a seat and we’ll bring it out to you” is any indication. Frowning, Killua scratches the back of his neck and scans the nearby tables, wondering where would be the best spot to catch Sunshine’s attention.

“Kon, is that you?”

Oh. Apparently he managed to do that simply by existing. Excellent. 

“It is! What a funny coincidence, seeing you here!” Sliding into the space beside Killua, Sunshine grins at him and places a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Do you come here often?”

Killua returns the grin as best he can, shaking his head. “No, this is my first time. I heard about the cats and felt obligated to check it out, since, you know, cat yoga.” 

“Yeah, yeah, makes sense. They’re fantastic here. Very professional, very friendly. Some of my favorite baristas!” Taking a sip of his coffee - which, Killua notes, he apparently didn’t have to wait for - Sunshine nods, scanning the team behind the counter. “Hey, why don’t you come sit with me? I’d like to talk, get to know you better, you know? I was pretty close to Hana, so it came as a shock when she left so suddenly.”

 _Perfect._ “Sure! Lead the way.” 

As expected, Sunshine leads them over to the little circular table in the back corner of the cafe and takes his usual seat, motioning for Killua to sit across from him. “So. Tell me: are you enjoying the job so far?”

Generally when coming, Killua opted to sit in a more firm chair, so the way the armchair all but devours him when he sinks into it is a surprise. He wiggles in it until finding a comfortable position. “Yeah, it’s a pretty sweet gig. I’d heard that working for Studio Meow was amazing, but I had no idea just _how_ amazing it really was.” Lies. Of course he’d done plenty of research and was knowledgeable on everything about the job, but that wasn’t something he could tell this man.

Sunshine nods, the knowing expression on his face piquing Killua’s curiosity. “That’s great to hear. The owner of the studio is a business associate of mine. He owns this place too, actually.” Gesturing to the cafe, he leans back and crosses his legs, taking another sip.

Killua’s eyes widen in the perfect portrayal of surprise. Which is only half accurate, to be honest. He knew Franklin Bordeau owned both places, yes, but he wasn’t aware that Shalnark was on speaking terms with him. “Oh, wow! You must have some high connections if you know him.”

Grinning, Sunshine takes a long drink of his coffee, as though to build up the dramatic effect for the next thing he’s going to say. He takes his time to set the cup back down before clearing his throat. “Yeah, well, what can I say,” he says smugly, running a hand through his hair suavely. “Being the CEO of SpiderTech does come with some pretty cool benefits.”

 _Wow. This guy is really playing it up. Does he act this way with everyone, or is he going out of his way to try to impress me, specifically?_ Killua leans forward, hands clasped together. “What!? No way, you’re the CEO!?” _Why is faking interest so much harder than faking apathy?_

“Mmhmm.” The grin morphs to a smirk, Shalnark placing his chin on his palm and leaning forward in an echo of Killua’s movement. “Sure am. And I’m willing to share those connections with the right person. So tell me, Kon…” Voice dipping lower, he winks as though they’re co-conspirators. “What type of person are you?”

 _He’s… he’s flirting with me._ Killua blinks once, twice, swallows. Oh, boy. On one hand, if Sunshine is interested in him, that does mean he can gather more, er, _intimate_ details about his personal life. But on the other, ew, no, fuck that. 

There has to be a middle ground here.

“Not the type to give away all the intrigue surrounding me right away, that’s for sure,” he fires back on impulse, relying on his habitual banter while his racing mind tries to figure out what to do. “Nothing better than a good mystery, after all.”

“Is that so~? Well, maybe I’ll just have to try a little harder, then, huh?” 

“Maybe, bu-” 

“Kon?” A loud baritone voice interrupts him and he jumps in surprise, flicking his gaze to meet the gorgeous honey-brown eyes of the barista beaming at both of them. The breath rapidly exits his lungs in an embarrassingly loud _whoosh_ as he stares, blinded by the radiant light the man exudes simply by existing in their presence. 

“Um, yeah, that’s, that’s me,” he manages to murmur. It’s rare for someone to affect him so strongly - Killua doesn’t really experience attraction often - and it throws him off-kilter, eyes following the hands that place his drink and food onto the table with a bit too much force.

“Great! Here’s your order. Hey, I like your name!” 

“Uh, thanks?” Killua drags his eyes back up to the barista’s face, this time drinking in his features beyond the magnetic eyes. Messy green hair, freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks. 

Shalnark clears his throat. “Are you new? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Oh!” The man turns to face Sunshine, giving Killua an absolutely inappropriate view of the muscles in his neck. “No, not really new. I usually work at night, but they needed me to fill in. It’s not usually this busy, so I’m a bit slow, heh…” 

“That’s okay, we all have to start somewhere. It’s nice to meet you,” Shalnark pauses a moment before chuckling. “Hey, your name is not Melody.”

Not-Melody raises his hands, taking a step back and grinning sheepishly between the two of them, unbothered by Killua’s shameless staring. “Guilty! I forgot my name tag at home, so I borrowed hers. My name is Gon!”

“Your name is _what!?”_ The words are out before Killua fully realizes what Gon - or himself, for that matter - has said, feeling the blood draining from his face. _Gon. Gon. Gon._

_That’s impossible, right?_

“Gon!” The green giant grins even wider, and suddenly _Killua can see it. He can see it in the way his hair defies gravity, in the constellation of freckles separate from the rest on his right check, in the way he emits heat like the sun itself._

It’s Gon. Gon Fucking Freecs. Here, in front of him, alive.

_Alive._

Killua’s hands fist, nails digging into his palms. _Illumi lied to me. He, it, jesus._

“Hey Kon, are you alright?” 

Shalnark’s voice is muffled by the rush of emotions and thoughts crowding into Killua’s head, the past several years of his life feeling like it’s falling apart at the seams. _He’s alive. He’s alive._

“Kon?” 

The touch of a hand to his shoulder sends Killua flying out of the chair, eyes wide and fists up in a defensive stance before he realizes it was Gon who touched him. Both men stare at him in varying states of confusion and concern, and Killua sighs, dropping his arms. “Sorry, ahaha. Um. I need to go, actually. Forgot about something, er, important. Later.” 

Exiting the cafe as quickly as possible, he ignores the way both of them call after him. Fuck the drink. Fuck the mission. Fuck it all.

_Gon is alive._

But what does that mean for him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* comments keep me fed and warm


	4. Open x Windows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gon has a habit of leaving his window open. Killua may on occasion take advantage of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Picking Oranges by Leddra Chapman

_ 5 years ago _

“Psst. Psst! Hey, Gon.”

The voice, insistent and close and so, so familiar filters in through fractured images and fleeting emotions. Like a drop of water falling into a pond it ripples outward, disturbing the once clear surface of his mind until he’s stirring, eyelids heavy with sleep. Limbs weighted and lethargic, a yawn bubbles up until it’s spilling from him, unbidden, long and almost painful in how wide it causes his mouth to open. “Mm?” 

“Gon. Wake up already, geez.” 

The mattress dips on one side and he rolls toward it, letting his body move as it pleases. Bumping into something solid, he lazily reaches out a hand to blindly pat at the warmth now pressed against his stomach. No sooner than his fingers brush skin are they slapped away with an indignant huff and he whines quietly, lower lip jutting out in a soft pout. “Ne Killua? Is that you?”

Another huff of air above him. “Stupid. Who else would it be?”

The confirmation brings a smile and he reaches out once more, this time with the confidence to wrap his arm around what he thinks is Killua’s waist. That earns him a grumble from his friend but no action is taken to force him to let go. He makes note of that and tucks it away in case he needs it in the future. 

“Why’re you in my room?” he asks with another jaw-cracking yawn, pulling himself closer and settling his head on Killua’s leg. “‘s late. Shouldn’t you be sleeping too?”

Something rests in his hair. A hand? Curious, he tilts his head into it, letting out a pleased hum when fingers begin brushing through unruly strands. Even through his sleep-hazed mind he knows it’s unusual for Killua to allow what could be considered cuddling, and even more so for him to engage in an action that could be labeled affectionate. But that’s okay. If this is what Killua wants, he’ll give it to him.

“You know I don’t sleep as much as you. Anyway, I’m leaving on a mission today and I wanted to see you before I left.” 

That gets his attention. Finally he cracks his eyes open, gazing up at Killua’s face. It’s half hidden in the shadows, the moonlight playing across the bits of skin it can reach in a way that somehow highlights the sharp features of his jaw. Killua’s looking out the window, expression guarded except for the exhaustion present in his eyes. Not for the first time Gon finds himself thinking about how pretty he is.

Also not for the first time, Gon smiles warmly and tells him just that. “Killua’s really pretty. I’m glad you came to see me before leaving.”

Predictably, Killua’s eyes snap to meet Gon’s for a beat, wide and shocked. Idly, Gon wonders how many times he’ll need to compliment his friend before he no longer seems ready to topple over from a few kind words. Red dusts those pale cheeks and he quickly turns away with a ‘hmph’, the hand in Gon’s hair withdrawing, much to Gon’s discontent. “God, you can’t just  _ say _ things like that.” Cool fingers grasp hold of Gon’s arm and peel him off, shoving his head away as well.

“Why not?” Gon sits up, jabbing the heels of his palm into his eyes even as he pouts. “It’s true, and it’s not like there’s anyone around to hear it.”

No answer. His hands fall to his side and he squints at Killua, lips turning down. Something is different tonight. Killua’s fronting pretty hard and his shoulders are tense. Not that that alone is strange, but the fact that he visited at - Gon checks the alarm clock nestled on the stand next to his bed - 4:01 am  _ is _ noteworthy. Even if he is leaving on a mission in the morning, history dictates that he just shoots Gon a text to let him know. It’s never warranted a visit before.

“Is something wrong?” Scooting closer, Gon dips his head to try to catch Killua’s eyes, but to no avail as the other boy simply turns away again. “Killuaaaa, don’t be like that. Come on, tell me.”

Killua reaches up and runs his hand through his hair, the white locks falling over his forehead and almost touching his nose. “I just…” He shrugs, seemingly lost for words for the first time Gon can recall.

The gnawing concern in Gon grows stronger. “Did something happen? Is it your family?” Fists clench of their own volition at his sides, a hot anger flashing through his body at whatever Killua’s awful family may have done now. 

“What!? No!” Killua stands suddenly, shoving his hands in his pockets and casting a glare at him. “Everything is fine, okay? God.” 

Gon doesn’t buy it, not for one second. Lips pursed into a thin line, he scoots to the edge of the bed. “Killua,” he begins, voice firm and steady, still slightly rough from sleep. Pushing is going to get him yelled at and probably wake Aunt Mito - warranting another type of yelling - but Killua won’t open up about his issues without an incessant amount of prodding. Especially not when it comes to his family.

They’ve been friends for over two years now and despite Killua knowing almost everything about Gon, the amount of information he’s been given about the Zoldycks could scarcely fill a cup. Anytime the subject is brought up Killua’s tone gets sharp, his words clipped. It’s like a gate slams down between them, one with multiple levels, each more difficult than the last to push open. And on the other side stands Killua, hands in his pockets with that frustratingly unreadable expression, key hanging around his neck. 

A gate meant to keep others out, but to Gon, it’s more a test of his friendship. And if he’s going to be tested, well, then he’s going to train until he can throw those doors open, from the first to the last. Because Killua deserves nothing less than someone willing to put in the work to make him feel worthy of safety.

Any further words on the tip of his tongue disappear when Killua leans forward, flicking Gon’s forehead with a sneer dancing on his lips. Pain flares at the point of contact, a thud of bone against bone cushioned by only minimal skin sending pointed tendrils out to snake into his brain. “Ow, no fair,” he whines, rubbing the sensitive area. “That hurt, Killua.”

“Tch. It’s the only way to get you to shut up, dummy.” And for a moment, the weird tension that had settled between Killua’s shoulders seems to lift as he snickers, amused - as always - by the reaction his actions receive. (And maybe, just maybe Gon plays it up more than normal because he’s aware of that fact.)

Well, he can’t argue with that. A sheepish laugh tumbles from him as he scratches the back of his neck, shrugging. “Or you could just  _ tell _ me.” 

Killua snorts. “Not a chance in hell.” Yeah, that’s not a surprise. “Besides, it really isn’t that big of a deal, okay?” 

Aaaaand the tension is back as quickly as it had left, but this time accompanied by some fidgeting that is very out-of-character for the young assassin. Usually the epitome of  _ appearing _ relaxed (because Gon learned very early on to read the difference between Killua being relaxed and Killua pretending to be relaxed), the slouching of his frame and the way he’s pressing his fingernails underneath each other like he does when the cafe is out of his buns bely his words. 

“Your window was wide open.” Killua jabs a thumb over his shoulder at the offending item, the glass pane indeed cranked to the max. “That’s dangerous, you know. Never know what sort of monster might get in.”

“Oh I don’t know, Killua,” Gon replies as he stands, grinning up at the slightly taller boy. “I like the breeze and besides, it let you in.” 

“Yeah, exactly. A monster.” 

Now that won’t do. “Don’t say that.” Gon grabs Killua’s hand, squeezing it gently and weaving their fingers together. He knows this action usually brings a blush to Killua’s face (and yep, there’s the telltale pink creeping in) but it also gets his attention without fail and seems to help whatever Gon’s point is to sink in. “Just because your family are monsters doesn’t mean you are one, too.”

“I kill people for a living, Gon. What else would I be?” Oh, his voice is cold now, cold and full of such a deep sorrow that it makes Gon’s heart ache. 

Fingers try to extract from his own and he tightens his grip, refusing to let Killua get away from him. “Then stop. Do something else.” 

Killua blinks down at him, lips lifting into a small, sad smile. “It’s not that easy, idiot. I’m the heir and it’s all my family knows. They’d never let me quit while I live there.”

Gon thinks for a moment, finger tapping his chin before brightening up. “Then let’s go somewhere else! I bet we can find a safe place for you to hide if we try hard enough.” 

The expression on Killua’s face falls flat, becoming unreadable once more. But Gon can feel the way his heartbeat picks up from where his thumb rests against one pale wrist, can see the slight catch of breath that accompanies his suggestion. It eggs him on, and he continues, “Maybe I can see if I can visit my dad! He’s probably far enough from here that they’d never consider looking there.”

A beat passes. Killua’s face begins to flood with an even darker color of pink, and Gon knows that means that under that messy mob of white hair, his ears are bright red. An inhalation, oddly loud in the otherwise quiet room, and then Killua opens his mouth. Blinks. Snaps it back shut just as quickly, swallowing loudly enough that his throat clicks. 

“You’d. You’d run away. With me?” The words are clipped but quiet, full of disbelief and wonder, voice thick with an emotion Gon can’t quite place. 

“Of course I would, if it meant you’d be happy.” In contrast, Gon’s words are confident and clear, spoken from the depth of his own heart. “You deserve to be happy, Killua. You shouldn’t have to think you’re a monster.” 

“Gon, I-” Killua shakes his head. “I can’t ask you to do that. What about Mito? What about school?”

“Mito will be fine without me around. She’d have a lot less stress, that’s for sure. And school can wait.” 

A sob breaks free from Killua, his free hand going up to cover his mouth as his eyes shimmer in the moonlight. Gon’s heart twists again, more painfully, and he pulls his friend into a tight hug. There’s no need to know the specifics of Killua’s background to know how deeply wounded he is, or the fact that he’s never been cherished outside of his ability to kill. Gon may not be overly introspective but he’s been around enough wild animals to recognize when they’ve been hurt by humans, and Killua shows all the signs. Even now, enveloped in Gon’s arms, he’s stiff and mechanical when he returns the hug, guard still up despite their friendship. Healing takes time and humans are so much more intricate and delicate than animals. Gon can only hope he’s up for the task.

He’s about to back off when something cracks and Killua’s suddenly grasping hold of him firmly, sobbing into his shoulder while shivers wrack his slight frame. Gon holds him even closer and gently rubs his back, humming a lullaby he vaguely recalls from when he was younger in what he hopes is a soothing manner. Each cry is more sorrowful than the last, sounding like it’s coming from deep within Killua’s soul, so much pent up pain finally rising to the surface to be set free. They’re muffled, so unlikely to wake Mito, but so powerful that they reverberate through Gon’s body like he’s been struck by a gong and he can’t, he just. There’s nothing to do beyond let Killua get it all out and he knows that, he knows, but Gon is a creature of  _ action _ and just standing here makes him feel like he’s not doing enough.

_ No one should ever suffer like this, _ he thinks, grinding his teeth together to suppress his own rage from rising to the surface. This isn’t the time to let himself get worked up over the many reasons he hates the Zoldycks, not with Killua finally in his arms and open in a way he’s never been before. But Gon is selfish, so selfish and he knows this. If not for his instincts telling him that should he release his hold on Killua he’ll run, he would probably do something he’d regret.

Killua on a good day is flighty. There’s no saying what’ll happen if Gon lets go too soon.

So he doesn’t let go, instead letting his hand travel slowly up Killua’s back until he’s cradling the base of his skull, pads of his fingers rubbing gently at his scalp. Gradually Killua’s body stills against him, sobs fading into whimpers until there’s nothing. Cool hands come up to press against Gon’s chest, chilly even through his shirt, and push him back to create a small space between them. Gon lets his arms drop, watching curiously, wondering what Killua’s next move will be. 

Killua coughs, clearing his throat, and rubs an arm across his eyes. It’s too dark to tell, but Gon has a feeling they’re pink around the edges and there’s probably some color on the pale cheeks, too. Crying usually does that. He waits without saying anything, acutely aware of how one wrong movement could cause Killua to turn and flee.

After taking a few moments to gather himself, Killua plunges a hand into one of his pockets before shoving something into Gon’s chest. Surprised, Gon’s hands come up to catch - a necklace? He squints and lifts it up, inspecting it in the moonlight. Hooked the bottom of the chain is a transparent sphere, colored a soft blue like the morning sky. In the center rests a single downy gray feather, scattered bubbles decorating the interior in a way reflective of clouds. His breath catches in wonder; it looks as though someone managed to bottle up part of the sky itself.

“It’s from that bird you insisted we save last week,” Killua speaks up hoarsely. “I found it on the ground where we got it and thought maybe-”

“I love it!” Gon interrupts, finger rubbing along the smooth outer surface of the object. It isn’t until the sides of his cheeks ache that he’s even aware that he’s smiling and he encloses it in his palm, turning back to Killua. “Did you make it?”

Whether it’s because of his earlier breakdown or some other reason, Killua kicks at the ground in a way Gon can’t describe as anything other than  _ shy _ \- something he wouldn’t have attributed to his friend before. Head downturned and hair hanging in front of his face, Killua shuffles his weight from foot to foot before nodding jerkily.

Another tug to his heart, but this time it feels entirely different. “Wow! Killua is so amazing!” Gon crows, throwing his arms around Killua once more and hugging him tightly. He laughs when Killua sputters in surprise, putting up no resistance when he’s shoved back. “It’s so beautiful, thank you!” A split second decision to wear it - despite the fact that it’s likely he’ll go back to sleep - has him fumbling with the chain, tongue sticking out slightly between his lips in concentration as he tries to catch the small clasp with his thumbnail.

“Here,” a voice breathes, very close to his ear. He blinks, surprised, when deft fingers pluck the necklace from his hands and place it around his neck, pulse jumping as they brush against his throat. 

It’s suddenly very warm in this bedroom.

The smallest of clicks sounds and then it’s hanging around his neck, the ball heavy enough to put a little pressure on the chain. He touches it again, still in awe, before turning around to face the red-faced boy behind him.

An urge presents itself. It’s not necessarily the first time kissing his friend has flitted across his mind, but it  _ is _ the first time he seriously considers it. He steps closer. Reaches out and cups Killua’s chin in his palm, tilting his head to find wide, blue eyes staring up at him in confusion. 

“Killua,” he murmurs, gaze flicking between Killua’s eyes and his lips, noting with interest the tongue that darts out to wet them. “Can I kiss you?”

It’s impossible to miss the way Killua’s breath catches or the way his eyes drop to Gon’s lips. For a moment he stays there, body trembling as Gon gently rubs his thumb along his jawline, patiently waiting for an answer. The bob of his adam’s apple makes Gon wonder, briefly, what it would taste like to kiss along the skin there. Eyelashes flutter closed and Killua inhales, visibly steeling himself for something. When he opens them again, he meets Gon’s gaze head-on.

“Fine,” he answers, narrowing his eyes. “But only if you quit asking such embarrassing questions.”

A low chuckle leaves Gon at Killua’s brattiness. “Of course, Killua.” 

Gon doesn’t think of kissing much - doesn’t think a lot about romance or relationships at all, really - but a part of him realizes that he never would have expected to be the shorter one with his first kiss. It’s only a few inches, thankfully, so it isn’t  _ that _ much of a difference, but he does gently maneuver Killua’s mouth down to meet him halfway. It’s a soft brush of lips, barely any pressure to it but it’s enough to lodge his heart in his throat and steal away his breath. Killua’s are chapped and a little rough against his own, and the way he sighs into the kiss causes Gon to smile.

He pulls back, eyes searching Killua’s face to see if he liked it, if it was okay to do it again. Blue eyes open to find his gaze on him and drop to the side but he doesn’t move away, instead pulling his bottom lip to worry between his teeth. 

Gon wants to kiss him again, so he does. Or, well, he tries to, but is greeted instead with a wall of fingers against his mouth.

“Not now. When I come back.” 

Ah. That’s fine, then. Gon’s smile gentles, thumb doing another pass along the smooth line of Killua’s jaw before dropping his hand and nodding. “Okay. I’ll wait.”

Though it shouldn’t be possible, Killua somehow manages to flush an even darker shade. Whatever is going through his mind may not be shared with Gon, but he trusts him, so. Whatever Killua says will go. “Meet me-” He stops, clearing his throat to speak up louder. “Meet me in the woods at our hideout, okay? I’ll, um. Text you when I come back.” Then he’s dashing around Gon and jumping lightly up onto the window ledge, pausing to look back with a smile so openly full of affection it makes Gon’s legs go weak. “Go back to sleep, dummy, and shut your window.”

oOo

The next few days go by in a blur, time managing to simultaneously fly by while somehow dragging on from minute to minute. The last time Gon remembers feeling this particular sense of weirdness was when he was 8 years old and told his dad was on his way home. Otherwise time just does its thing and Gon does his and, well, they correspond pretty well, apparently. 

It’s driving him mad.

Of course he’s usually a little on edge whenever Killua leaves for a mission. That’s only natural when your best friend is an assassin, right? It’s not that Gon doesn’t believe in Killua’s capabilities or ability to carry out his orders. But his job - killing people mercilessly. He’s seen the way it wears on him, the way it destroys Killua’s kind and caring soul.

But it’s more than that, isn’t it? There’s more to them now. A kiss, freely given in the dark that signified a greater depth of relationship than simply best friends. Where did it lead them? Gon’s not sure, but he  _ does _ know that he’s ready to take the first step down that road as long as it’s Killua by his side.

The memory of the kiss still buzzes across his lips whenever he thinks of it and he brings his fingers up to touch them, grin widening to the point that he probably looks stupid. Not that he cares. It’s okay to look like a lovestruck fool if it’s for Killua.

Walking home from school takes him longer than most of his friends simply because he lives on the edge of town. Most of them live in apartment buildings further in or the nice, big homes saved for the doctors and lawyers. Mito is neither, and as a teacher who is also functioning as a single parent, she had to find a place that fit her incredibly tight budget. Gon doesn’t mind. The house is bigger than the one on Whale Island and it’s home for them, even if it’s seen better days. 

A siren blares in the distance.

He vaguely wonders if Killua will take him up on the offer to run away together. It’d take a decent amount of convincing Mito  _ not _ to pursue him but he’s sure that she’d understand the need to get Killua out of that environment. With her heart of gold and the fact she took him in when she was - oh wow, his age, actually - there’s no way she wouldn’t. In fact she’d probably be more inclined to offer to give Killua a place to stay but with how close they are to the Zoldyck estate, that would be dumb. Even he’s smart enough to know that.

Another siren joins the first, progressively getting louder. The scent of sulfur floats in the air.

Killua. Mm. When he gets back, Gon will get to kiss him again. Probably. Maybe. It  _ sounded _ like that’s what would happen. His hand goes up to touch the necklace, rubbing the side of it. He’s only taken it off to shower, even wearing it to bed. Granted part of that may be due to the size of the clasp but that’s neither here nor there. 

Gon can’t wait to kiss him again.

A firetruck zooms past him, siren loud enough he swears he can feel his brain rattling around in response. He frowns, tilting his head to the side as a second then third one follow, watching them as they rush down the road and turn right, heading toward the street that leads to-

_ Oh, no. _

Panic blooms in his chest and he shouts, bursting into a run after the trucks. Suddenly he’s acutely aware of the unnatural heat coming from the south and the pungent stink of  _ fire. _ How did he not notice before? It’s so  _ obvious _ and oh god, oh god, please be okay please be okay please be okay please 

He makes it to the front of their house, lungs burning from extra effort and the hot bite of the air. Firefighters spray the flames but they don’t appear to be making any progress, a judgment furthered as he sees them gesture manically at each other. But that’s not, no, there’s something else-

“ _ GON!” _

Whipping around, he launches himself at Mito, relief flooding through him. “Are you okay?” they ask at the same time, both nodding before she wraps him up in her arms. 

“What happened?” 

“They’re not sure,” Mito answers, turning to watch the fire dance along the lines of the house. “I only just got home…” 

They stand in silence, Gon wincing when the roof caves in with a loud  _ whoosh. _ There’s something decidedly supernatural about it, a stubbornness no ordinary fire should have. He frowns, conflicting emotions surging through him at the loss of his home.

“What a shame,” a smooth voice says next to them, sounding almost robotic in nature. Glancing over to the newcomer, Gon startles at the peculiar man beside him. Long black hair, large, black eyes that feel more like black holes than anything else. “For such an old house to go up in flames is a loss. Did the occupants survive?”

“Yes, we did. It’s just us thankfully,” Mito answers, wiping her eyes of the tears Gon hadn’t seen developing there. “Neither of us were home.”

“Hmm.” The man presses a finger to his lips in a movement so similar to Killua that it gives Gon whiplash, a feeling of dread beginning to pool in his stomach. “That’s good.” Eyes empty of any humanity settle on Gon for a second before moving down to his necklace, narrowing at it. Ice shoots through his veins and he reaches up to clutch the necklace, brows coming together in a glare as realization begins to dawn on him. “It would be terrible if anyone lost their life in something so… avoidable.” Cocking his head to the side, he catches Gon’s eye once more. “Best make better choices next time.”

“...right.” Mito butts in, shoving Gon to the other side of her and, thankfully, breaking their eye contact. “Who are you again?”

“Oh, no one in particular. Just someone passing by.” 

_ Message received, _ Gon thinks, hands fisting at his sides as he stares at the ground, jaw clenched.  _ Loud and clear. _

But if Killua’s family thinks they can scare Gon away for long, they’re wrong. And he’ll show them just how wrong they are.

_ Present _

“Hey Zush,” Gon calls out around his toothbrush, finishing his last few swipes before leaning over the sink and spitting out the foam. “Did you have any luck finding articles for your psych paper last night?” He grabs the bottle of green mouthwash sitting there and squirts some into his mouth, swishing it around before spitting it out as well. “When I tried a few days ago I got stumped.”

“Yeah, I found a few. Have you even decided on a topic yet?”

“No…” Peering into the mirror at himself, Gon grabs a brush and drags it through his hair a few times to get the worst of the tangles out. Mmm. The bags under his eyes are getting worse. That can be expected with all the extra hours he’s been picking up at the cafe, he supposes. He drops the brush onto the counter and rolls his shoulders a few times before turning around to watch his harried-looking roommate digging through a pile of clothes on the floor in the room across the hallway. “How did you decide on one so quickly?”

“Huh?” Zushi glances up at him, brows furrowed, then shakes his head and returns to the pile. “It’s not that hard, Gon. You just pick something you’re interested in and do it.”

“Something I’m interested in,” Gon repeats thoughtfully, meandering over to the doorframe and leaning against it. There are  _ plenty _ of things he’s interested in. Environmental science, for one. Finding his father, exploring the world, taking care of his friends. Martial arts, even video games now and then. Becoming strong enough to one day be able to take on anyone. 

But as far as psychology goes…

Something soft smacks him in the face, falling halfway over his eyes. “Eh- don’t throw your dirty laundry at me!” The white shirt goes flying back toward its owner and Gon starts in surprise to notice him watching him, arms folded with eyebrows raised. 

“You’re thinking too much. Go much harder and soon your brain will melt out of your ears,” Zushi accuses, finally selecting something and pulling it over his head. “We don’t have to have our topics chosen until next week, so. Maybe just see if something catches your eye before then.”

Gon hums in thought. Zushi’s right, it’s not imperative that he figure it out right this moment. Today he has Evolution, Ecology, and the Nature of Science followed by Intro to Geology and he’ll need to devote all of his brain power to getting through those unscathed, and then it’s right back to work again. Honestly, he’s a little proud of himself for trying to get a jump on his psych assignment, even if he didn’t manage to get very far. It may have taken two semesters of mostly trial-and-error but he’s learning that if he’s going to work this much, then he needs to stay so on top of his homework that he’s almost ahead of it.

Which is a lot easier said than done, especially in the classes he’s only taking to get the credits.

_ ♫ Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof~ ♫ _

“Holy fffffff!” comes the exclamation across the room, and Gon notes in humor that Zushi’s shirt is now wet, probably from the cup of water in his hand. “Do you have to have your phone’s ringer on so  _ loud? _ Scared the shit out of me,” he complains, looking down at his chest with resignation. “Man, and I just found a shirt I wanted to wear…”

_ ♫ Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth~ ♫ _

Laughing, Gon grabs the towel hanging from his loft and throws it at his exasperated friend. “Yep. Because I’m happy!” 

_ ♫ Clap along if you know what happiness is to you~ ♫ _

Zushi catches it with ease, grumbling under his breath and pulling his shirt over his head again. Still chuckling, Gon tugs his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it to find a reminder from Mito to bring home his laundry next time he visits - which is about once per month - and to please remember to eat healthily, since it’s still flu season. A fond smile crosses his face as he types back an assurance of both. 

Even now that he’s been out for almost two years she’s still trying to take care of him, despite all of his efforts to get her to focus on herself now. She’s so busy with the school she started, coordinating the few students all on her own. 

He hadn’t wanted to leave Kukuroo Village and while it still sits heavy on his heart all that he left behind, their move back to Whale Island had been for the better. There had never been enough children to justify a full-fledged schoolhouse but since she’d completed her degree, Mito decided to open her own small one. He’ll never forget the look of anticipation in her eyes or the way her face had crinkled in pure joy when it had opened, her dreams finally realized. But she needs to stop worrying so much about him. After all, he’s 19 and perfectly capable of keeping himself alive, thank you. 

So what if it’s Kurapika who keeps the fridge stocked, or Pairo who does most of the cooking. And yeah, maybe Leorio badgers him into studying more than he usually would and Zushi tidies up the common area. They’re just helping him. He’d do just fine on his own.

Absolutely fine.

“Car’s leaving!” comes a low voice from downstairs. “I begin my new rotation today and I can’t be late. I’ll leave without you!”

“Coming!” Gon and Zushi shout in unison, both scrambling to grab their bags and get downstairs. Zushi’s one step behind Gon, both of them having to duck to not smack their heads against the low ceiling on the starwell. The house certainly wasn’t built for tall people but it fits the five of them and doesn’t cost an arm and a leg. Leorio, Kurapika, and Pairo have lived here for three years and it was dumb luck that their other roommates moved out at the end of last school year, shortly after Gon started working at Pawsitive Meowments. He’d hit it off with both of them immediately and was thrilled to get the invite to move in, especially since he’d been hoping to room with Zushi once his childhood friend started that fall. 

Despite being one of the tallest in the group, he was still a hair shorter than Leorio - if the man ever chose to stand up straight, that is. As they round the corner into the kitchen Gon stifles a laugh at the future doctor, arms folded across his chest, a scowl on his face and foot tapping impatiently. The dark blue of his scrubs suit him rather nicely, much better than the mustard yellow ones he’d had to wear his last rotation. 

“Let’s go kids,” Leorio grumbles, throwing open the door as soon as they’re in front of him. “Another day, another step closer to passing out in bed tonight.”

oOo

It’s past ten when Gon finally gets back to the house, and exhaustion is beginning to creep in. The cafe was busier than normal tonight - packed to the brim with college students starting around 7pm - which is fine normally, but the night shift has the additional responsibilities of deeper cleaning and more in-depth care of the cats. Staffed with only two people due to the need for fewer baristas, the rush had left both him and Retz drained, spending over an hour after closing to finish their duties. Which is fine, usually. Gon doesn’t mind the extra work, and it’s a joy to play with the cats. But he’s been working almost every night in order to help out since their last closer quit - as well as picking up shifts during the day more, too - and it’s catching up to him. 

Where did all the extra energy and enthusiasm he remembers overflowing with even a few years ago end up? Is this the natural effect of being overworked, underpaid,  _ and _ trying to cram his brain full of knowledge that isn’t his forte?

Sliding his shoes off, he quietly shuts the door behind him knowing full well that all three of the occupants of the lower floor are asleep. Kurapika usually picks up the earliest morning shift before his classes, which means he’s out of the house no later than the horrifying hour of 4am. Pairo signed up for early morning classes all semester and Leorio is, well, Leorio. He always wants to be in bed before 9pm.

The sound of footsteps above indicates that Zushi is still awake, probably going through one of his tai chi routines or something for one of his classes. Knowing his friend has a tendency to forget to eat, Gon makes a pit stop in the kitchen and digs in the fridge to see what leftovers there may be that he can easily warm up for both of them. Lasagna, chicken, some eggrolls… Aha. Underneath a few containers is a box of half-eaten pizza from … well, sometime recent, hopefully. He tugs it out and shuts the fridge, tucking two bottles of water under his arm before trudging up the stairs. 

“Hey Zush,” he says, cramming a piece of taco pizza into his mouth. “Mmmrff?” He shakes the box in his friend’s general direction, extracting one water and offering it as well. 

“Oh, thanks.” Sweat drips down Zushi’s tanned face and he grabs the water, opening it and downing half of it in one go. “Wow, I didn’t realize it was so late.” 

“You never do.” Time blindness seems to be a weakness of Zushi’s, something that he vaguely recalls having been mentioned in tandem with ADHD. Which Zushi has, so logically, it follows. “You can have the rest, I ate at work.” Setting the box down on Zushi’s desk, Gon turns and crosses the short distance to his own room.

“Donuts don’t exactly count as healthy, you know.”

“Never claimed they did,” Gon answers with a shrug, tearing off his shirt and falling face first into his bed with a groan. It won’t be that big of a deal to just close his eyes for a moment. Let them rest for a few minutes until he can drag himself up and out of bed to change. Not a big deal at all…

oOo

Something cold dances lightly across his chest, reminiscent of the light pitter patter of rain. He huffs out a breath, grumbling, and scratches the affected area to rid himself of whatever it is. Probably a fly. Happens a lot when he leaves the window open since the screen has a hole in it. Not important enough to wake for, though. 

His hand stills where it sits just above his heart and he begins to fade again.

It’s back, a little sharper this time, somehow both soothing and scratching as it traces the weight sitting on his sternum, nudging the ball just enough to cause it to rock gently in place.

Oh. That’s worth waking for. 

In the space between heartbeats he manages two things: first, his hand snaps up at a speed only someone who’s dealt with many a wild animal can master, fingers wrapping around the wrist of someone. Second, he sits up and yanks on them, nearly ending up with someone in his lap from the pure force behind his pull. He’d almost feel bad, catching them off-guard like that, but then again, they  _ are _ the one in his room uninvited.

Moonlight shines in through the window to illuminate the face of someone with wide blue eyes filled with an emotion circling like a storm, the ghost of freckles across their nose, and long, curly strands of white hair falling free from the bun on top of their head.

His breath catches. “...Killua?”

It feels like time slows down to nearly standing still as they stare at each other, days blurring into months blurring into years, but in reality less than a second passes from the time he speaks a name he hasn’t said aloud in too long and when he finds himself flat on his back, empty handed. He blinks in surprise, then glances at the window to watch the shadow of a man jump out gracefully, soundlessly landing on the roof outside. 

“No- Killua, wait!” Gon scrambles to his feet, squeezing himself out the window and onto the roof in record time, flinching as rough, worn shingles bite into his bare feet. Killua’s already on the other side of the roof and he bursts into a run, not wanting to lose sight of him. Not this time, not after  _ finally _ finding him after all these years. “Killua!”

Honey eyes meet blue once more as Killua glances back over his shoulder, expression so maddeningly unreadable and familiar at the same time before he jumps down onto the lawn. Gon slips, frustrated, then follows suit, jumping onto the ground as Killua reaches the sidewalk, taking a sharp turn. 

“Please, Killua, wait!” His voice is strained, his eyes burning with unshed tears forming from fear and happiness and so, so much that he doesn’t care about right now because what’s important is  _ Killua, _ and catching Killua, and apologizing to him and telling him that he didn’t leave him, not on purpose. 

Killua was always fast as a kid, his stamina unreal from the years and years of assassin training. Gon can only assume that training continued after he all but vanished from Killua’s life, and as the distance grows between them, Killua jumping a fence into someone else’s yard without slowing down, Gon knows he’s severely outclassed. Still he runs. He jumps over the fence without the grace of Killua but with his own pure athletic ability, chases him until he’s a shadow that disappears fully into the distance. He runs, and he runs, until the only sounds beyond the humming of the streetlights and the occasional bark of a dog is his own breath, loud and gasping. 

“DAMN IT,” he curses, punching the tree next to him before falling against it, winded. The adrenaline pumping through him kept him going this long but now that he’s stopped all of the pain is catching up with him. His feet are numb from running on the pavement except for an incredibly tender spot in his arch that he probably cut while on the roof. His fist aches, his throat’s sore, and  _ he lost him again. Killua was right there, in front of him, alive and within arm’s reach for the first time in five years.  _

Tears run down his cheeks, the cold night air snapping against his skin but he doesn’t care, fisting his hands in determination. He got away tonight, but now Gon knows. Gon  _ knows _ Killua is here in Yorknew City, probably for a mission. 

And Gon is going to find him if it kills him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I had planned for this chapter was not what the boys had planned, apparently, so here we are.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Come shout at me on twitter if you'd like - @starlighthawke. :) I'm always up to nerd out with someone.


End file.
